symmetry
by racketeering
Summary: When Marinette breaks up with Adrien. And Chat Noir goes to Ladybug for advice. ladynoir/adrinette. (for papayacha, of course)
**summary: irony doesn't suit them.**

 **pairings: adrinette and ladynoir**

 **sidenotes: for darling papayacha. who is now officially older than dirt. thanks for introducing me to this awful show. im in pain daily thanks to you. also i kinda editedish this one so yeah it doesnt suck as bad but it still really does and itsliterally the same kill me**

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She supposed, five minutes late was forgivable.

Ten was a stretch.

But thirty-five minutes in, white heels clicking on the sidewalk anxiously and hot, embarrassed blush officially glued to her cheeks, she decided that _that_ was the last straw.

.

.

.

" _-and I am so sorry, Marinette, I had this work thing, and I couldn't avoid it, and everyone was talking to me and before I knew it, it was_ _10 o'clock_ _. Please, please call me back."_

Marinette had grown tired of clapping her hands over her ears and taking the four-year-old way out and pretending not to hear Adrien's pleas. As childish as it was, she preferred it over actually considering.

Her phone rang again. And again, and _again._ He was relentless in pursuing her attention, assuming he had every intention of apologizing, for blowing her off, _again_.

Marinette had known from the beginning that Adrien was a flake. He wouldn't strike you as it, but it was like he always had some little side job to do. Something that would lead him to either miss, or be twenty minutes late to a date that Marinette had scrawled on her calendar a week and a half beforehand.

She'd need only one hand to count all of the perfect, uninterrupted dates they'd had. Until now, she'd thought that those perfect dates were worth all of the fractured ones.

But at that point, standing on the sidewalk in one of her favorite dresses, alone, cold, and mortified, she knew that there was no way he could offer her a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of flowers and everything would be solved.

"Don't worry Marinette! I'm sure Adrien had a perfectly viable reason to miss last night's date!" Tikki encouraged her gently. Unfortunately, Marinette wasn't in the mood for her insatiable enthusiasm.

"I'm sure he does, Tikki. Just like he did for the last date, and the one before that, and the one before that." Marinette said flatly.

Tikki pursed her lips and laid down on Marinette's shoulder sadly.

"I'm sorry, Marinette. I know it's been hard for you balancing Adrien and Ladybug, and then his knack for missing dates, and I _know_ you still love him-"

"That doesn't matter," Marinette huffed, slowly taking off her silvery earrings and reattaching her Ladybug ones. "I don't want to be with someone who isn't going to be there for e. Even if…even if I do… _love_ him."

Tikki shifted her face uncomfortably. "Maybe going out for a _run_ will make you feel better."

Marinette offered her a soft, sad half grin.

"Why not?' She asked rhetorically. "Tikki, transform me!"

.

.

.

He had a hero's complex.

That's what Plagg called it, at least. And it was the reason he'd arrived in front of a restaurant nearly forty minutes late, with no angry girl friend to yell at him for being a disgrace.

He'd rather her yell at him than ignore him, and after the fifth call, he began to wonder if this had been his final mistake.

.

.

.

"Someone's going to see you," Plagg told him, even though he knew his warning would fall on ignorant ears. Adrien had been all silence and glom ever since missing Marinette on their date, due to a sinking boat on the river with people trapped inside.

Not that Adrien could ever tell Marinette that.

Adrien threw a rock off the roof and watched it bounce, one, two, three times until it hit the ground below. Adrien was lucky enough no pedestrians had noticed him lingering on what was undoubtedly private property, and that he hadn't managed to strike any pedestrians was a miracle in itself.

"She'll forgive you," Plagg reasoned with him. _She always does…_

Adrien made a sound of protest, his voice coming out in a low rumble. He hurled another rock to the ground and sighed.

"She shouldn't _have_ to." He argued, moving a rock between his fingers and enjoying the feel before inevitably hucking it at the ground in frustration.

"Well," Plagg shrugged. "I guess you're screwed."

Adrien sent him the iciest glare he'd seen since the Great Depression.

"Thanks."

Plagg wasn't nearly condescending enough to reply with "you're welcome," but he did have the humility to attempt to console his longtime friend.

"I'm sorry, you know." Plagg told him sincerely. "This is a burden…I…never really asked if you wanted it."

"It's not your fault," Adrien told him, although from his tone, Plagg didn't feel very forgiven. "It's my 'hero's complex', right?" Adrien smiled like he was trying to crack a bitter joke.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Plagg asked him. "Marinette is a nice girl, but you'll get over her."

Adrien made a 'hmm' sound and Plagg sighed, sitting down on a rock Adrien had probably lanned on throwing.

"…Wanna go for a run to cheer you up?"

Adrien raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you hated runs."

"I do. They're pointless, and require me to expel unnecessary energy on things that don't benefit me or you." Plagg deadpanned. "…But, I know you like them. God knows why."

Adrien smiled in appreciation. "Alright. But _only_ because you asked."

"You little shi-"

"Plagg, transform me!"

.

.

.

Ladybug's arms tensed as she grabbed onto the bars of the Eiffel Tower and pulled herself upwards. The higher the got, the more wind blew in her face. She liked the way it made her forget where she was, and what she was doing.

Being one of the world's greatest tourist attractions, Ladybug tended to seat herself below the viewing deck so she wouldn't be interrupted by said tourists. Plus, the view was always a killer.

Ladybug rolled her head around, soothing the kinks in her neck and sighing. Runs were her favorite, although they involved less running and much more _flying_. There was something invigorating about being in complete control of your motion that she loved, and always soothed her when she was sad, or seething, or lonely.

She rubbed her mask softly, sometimes she forgot it was there, and she'd get paranoid that it had fallen off sometime on the way. Even though that was impossible, sometimes her paranoia got the better of her.

Ladybug quickly swung her legs over the cool, aged metal of the tower, leaning her head against the nearest framework and enjoying the utter feel of _Paris_ all around her. It was easy to understand why so many people were drawn here, French or not. It was her home, and she loved it.

"Ladybug?"

At the sound of her ego's name, Marinette felt disappointment seep into her mind slowly. She'd been discovered, probably by tourists, who would no doubt want an autograph. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate them, it was just that this point in time was very inconvenient for tourists. She just needed to wallow in her anger and sadness, by herself.

She turned around slowly wearing the fakest smile she could conjure, only to be surprised in not seeing an eager group of foreigners, but her partner.

"Chat Noir?" She blinked. It was him, he was directly opposite her, just a few tens of feet across. He was leaning on crouched knees, peering up at her with those glowing green cat eyes. What was he doing here, anyways?

"What are you doing here?" He asked her before she could ask him the same thing.

"I'm…I'm…uh," she looked down at her hands for some sort of excuse. No lucky charm could help her now.

He used his staff to push himself over to the side of the tower she was sitting on, and situated himself beside her, with a support beam between them.

"It's ok, you don't have to have a reason." He told her softly. "Sometimes, I just come here to get away…"

She looked over at him from behind the beam and sighed. "Me too."

She listened to the beat of his breathing, which was remarkably uneven. He must've had a rough night, not unlike hers. She bitterly thought back to standing in the cold in front of the restaurant, waiting for a boyfriend who didn't care enough to show up.

He looked awful, on the breathing note. She snuck a look at him despite being separated by a chunk of the Eiffel Tower, he seemed almost pale, and his eyes were hooded with exhaustion. He'd been thinking about something pretty hard, that was for sure.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like, if we never became…" he looked down at his suit with grim seriousness. She understood.

"All the time." She answered succinctly.

He stayed silent, like he was mulling over her answer. Meanwhile, she tried to decipher what had him so shaken.

Chat Noir was the kind of guy to stay loose and happy even when things seemed dire – that's what made him so easy to be around, but, of course, no one was untouchable. Ladybug happened to know he was fiercely protective of his friends, and everyone in general. Still, it was nearly impossible to tell what had happened without more information.

"I think I ruined my life."

Well, that said something.

Ladybug wanted to say something immediately to calm his probably aching nerves, but he stopped her before she could even open her mouth.

"And don't try to demean it, I know I have." He sighed in frustration. "I just – I can't find a _balance_ , you know?"

Balance was a funny word. Because no matter what – _balance_ required sacrifice.

She'd struggled for so many years on the same issue – how could you find a balance? Two different lives, lives that had to stay completely separate. She danced with the question every night before bed, and every night the answer seemed to get more and more complicated.

But maybe all questions didn't need answers.

She sighed.

"Chat Noir – balance inevitably means that you're going to have to give up something. In order to maintain balance, something else must be cut out of your life." She told him slowly.

He nodded, absorbing her words like gospel. "What…what do you mean?"

"I _mean_ , that perfect balance isn't always a good thing." She said, suddenly realizing she was divulging one of her best kept secrets.

He tipped his head quizzically. She didn't blame him, she felt the same way when Tikki had suggested it.

"If _balance_ means you have to lose something – something you love, something you _can't_ live without – it balance really worth it?"

He looked down at the world below. He must've understood her. The thought was as ludicrous to him as it had been to her two years ago – when facing the choice, her best friend, or her secret identity. Balance meant that to preserve her two lives, Alya would have to go.

And if that was what balance meant, then Marinette wanted no part of it.

"What do I do?" He inquired. She smiled, pushing her hair behind her mask and leaning her head against the barrier between them.

"Do whatever it takes to get your life back. And screw balance! Cats always land on their feet anyways, don't they?" She asked him slyly. He laughed, and she brightened significantly. Maybe he'd actually heed her advice.

"My Lady, dost my ears deceive me, or did you just make a cat joke?" He questioned her jokingly.

"You tell me," she shrugged. He seemed much better now.

If only he could give her advice on how to properly break up with a boy you're in love with.

He stood up, long, lean-muscled arms reaching to the sky as if he'd been reawakened.

"You know, I used to love you." He told her, eyes facing out to the city, like the words were nothing but words etched in a history book.

She looked down sadly. "What changed?"

He looked back at her, green eyes dancing with enlightenment and something else disturbingly familiar.

"Nothing."

She had only a few moments to react before he – quite literally – leapt off of the Eiffel Tower, face first, and disappeared from her sight.

"Damn," she remarked, having no other words to say, She lifted herself to her feet, thinking about everything she'd told him and how hypocritical she was being.

How could she expect Adrien to understand how she felt without telling him? He was so busy with work, and his career, and his uptight father – maybe he was trying to balance everything. She knew a thing or two about struggling to manage her time. Maybe Adrien was just having more trouble than she was. She knew he wasn't the kind of person to intentionally hurt her.

Whipping out her yo-yo and aiming it at the closest building, she made a decision.

She'd call him.

.

.

.

When she got home – Marinette, that is – he didn't answer her call.

Instead, Chat Noir was waiting at her window.

She opened it slowly, her fingers slipping at the edges, hat was he doing here? What was he _doing_? Wasn't he going to take her advice?

"I have something to tell you," he said, voice rushed as his words came out in short huffs, like he'd been waiting a lifetime just to tell her those words.

"Chat Noir, what? What are you doing he-"

He placed a finger to her lips, eyes mischievous and knowing. She was effectively silenced, only to watch in awe as he lifted his other hand and slowly slipped his ring off.

Speechless wasn't the word she was looking for.

When Adrien looked back at her, guiltily holding the black ring with a small smile, she had no words, thoughts, or feelings.

"Sorry I'm late."

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End file.
